User blog comment:Biggren/The Northern March Original/@comment-3135907-20150416211628




 * Dwiv and Briney, two big, black shiprats, were the first to the distant peak of Salamandastron as the barquentine Blackgall tacked against the north wind, headed up the coastline from a season of southern raiding. "Hoi mate, lookit. D'rabbit mount'n. Better go report this to d'Cap'n."
 * "Right, cobber," agreed Dwiv.
 * Captain Sespinta, a mottled searat, nodded approvingly to the two as they made their report in his cabin moments later. His worn, gnarled claws tapped thoughtfully at the map on his gouged, weatherbeaten desk. "We're makin' good 'eddway, den. Lucky it's a clear evenin'. Now's time fer our turn inland, coves. Dwiv, tell d'crew."


 * Under the light of the same moon that greeted the camp of Aridu and the hares escaping under their noses not a mile away, the Blackgall slacked to half sail near the southern mouth of the River Moss. The ship turned landward, and all hands began to pole and row it carefully into the river broadstream, against the current, and on up their merry way inland. Captain Sespinta had arrived in Mossflower Country.